


(I search myself) I want you to find me

by Miniatures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Light Nipple Play, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:59:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5853247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/pseuds/Miniatures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wants Gabriel to touch himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I search myself) I want you to find me

Sam isn’t sure why he asks—he knows he’s wondered it before, on lonely nights spent palming his skin, sending filthy prayers to his lover like a multisensory sext. He knows he’s imagined it before, coming on fantasies of an archangel’s aching cock clutched in his own clever fingers. But he’s never planned to inquire about it, never planned to know. So it’s a surprise to even himself when he turns to Gabriel one night and asks:

“How often do you jerk off without me?”

Gabriel huffs, his breath warm and wet against Sam’s shoulder where he’s tucked. “Never.”

“I… find that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you want, kiddo, but it’s true.”

Sam pauses. “You’re serious.”

Another huff and a wiggle at his side. “Yup. Hell, I don’t think I’ve done it alone at _all_ since…” Gabriel purses his lips. “When did _The Secret Life of Walter Mitty_ come out?”

“It’s been three years?”

Gabriel laughs. “Not the remake, the first one.”

Sam jolts up, leaving Gabriel to slump into the sheets with an affronted grunt. “You haven’t masturbated since the _forties?_ How… you’re _you_ , how is that even possible?”

Staring up at the ceiling with the hint of a pout rounding his face, Gabriel sighs. “I’ve _masturbated_ , Sam, I’m not a fucking nun. Not a good one, anyway.” He wiggles his fingers briefly under Sam’s nose. “Literal magic hands, remember? If I’m in the mood and don’t feel like finding another willing participant, I can snap up my very own organic sex dolls. All of the fun with none of the mess, and no need to jerk off alone.”

Sam frowns, his gut giving a sudden sick twist. “So… how often do you do _that_ without me?”

Gabriel reaches up, cups Sam’s cheek in one palm, his thumb grazing the curve between Sam’s neck and jaw. “Also never. You keep me more than sated, hotlips.”

Sam smiles. “Ass.”

“Your _favourite_ ass.”

They lean together and kiss—the angle is awkward and they laugh as they break apart. Gabriel sits up and sits in Sam’s lap, straddling his thighs. The archangel’s mouth is hot and sweet, and Sam thinks he could die happy with it on him.

He can say that about the rest of Gabriel too, come to think of it. All fat over heavy muscle, supple and solid, soft and strong. Sam hasn’t exactly fucked the garrison, but he can’t imagine other angels feeling like this—both earthly and divine, like the pagan god Gabriel once tried to be.

Sam moans into that sweet mouth as small, powerful hands map paths between the most sensitive planes of his body. Those, too, deserve a mention—Gabriel wasn’t kidding when he said he has magic fingers. The way they seem to _know_ Sam, drawing blooms of pleasure across his skin until he melts, cradling and piecing him together so gently Sam forgets just how rough they can be.

Case in point: sting, and Gabriel’s teeth join his tongue in the Ravishing of Sam Winchester’s Mouth. Sam digs his fingernails into the meat of Gabriel’s thighs in response. Gabriel whines into the kiss, draws back only to surge forward and snap and suck at Sam’s throat.

Another groan, this one low and long as Sam buries it in Gabriel’s tangled honey-brown hair. He bucks his hips, his hardening cock dragging over Gabriel’s perineum and procuring a decidedly unangelic whimper at his jugular.

“I want—” Sam can’t put it into words, it’s been so nebulous a desire for who knows how long, but he _wants_ , God, he wants.

“Yeah.” Gabriel is rocking forward now, nibbling at Sam’s jaw as he chases the heat gathering between them. “Tell me what, baby, anything…”

Sam can feel it sticking to the roof of his mouth, choking under the weight of his useless tongue, and he can’t fucking _think_ with those _hands_ on him—

Oh. Of course.

“Touch yourself,” he breathes, and Gabriel stills in his lap. “I want you to touch yourself for me.”

More huffs, warm and wet. Sam realizes that Gabriel is laughing and feels his cheeks flare hot. He’s about to say _nevermind_ , turn over, and call it a night, but when Gabriel pulls back to meet his eye there’s nothing but tenderness in his smile.

“Closet voyeur, huh?” Gabriel raises an eyebrow. He nips Sam’s bottom lip before rolling off and onto his back. “I’m all yours. Or mine, I guess.”

“Oh, yes.” Sam crawls to the bottom edge of the mattress, kneels at his lover’s feet. He holds Gabriel’s gaze as the archangel lifts a knee, runs one palm over the swell of his belly and the other along the inside of his raised thigh. Gabriel is still only half-hard, but he’s gaining, his cock twitching lazily against his leg.

“Yeah.” Sam’s mouth is watering already. “Just like that, start slow…”

Gabriel hums, and he brings the hand from his belly to his mouth. He wets them with a lap of his pink tongue and trails them damp across his breast before settling on a nipple. He pinches and rolls it between his fingers, breath hitching.

Sam thinks about the first time Gabriel did this, the first time he explored his then-new body. Sam thinks about a runaway archangel struck by his sexuality for the first time, wonders whether now, centuries, millennia later, it still feels like something new.

Gabriel’s other hand makes one last pass down, down, down his thigh until he’s cupping his balls, rolling them slow and delicate in his palm.

His eyes flutter shut, and he and Sam moan in unison.

“Sam…” Gabriel murmurs. “Fuck, wish this was you, wish you were touching me...” He releases his balls and lets his fingers graze along the side of his now fully hard cock once, twice, before he clutches the head. His thumb swipes over the drooling slit and he shudders. “ _Shit_.”

Sam grips the base of his own erection—when he asked for this he had no idea exactly how much it would turn him on, but oh, Gabriel is going to _ruin_ him.

But he says nothing. He says nothing as Gabriel begins to stroke himself, slow and leisurely. As the spit-slick fingers still teasing his nipple become lube-slick in a blink of Sam’s eye and make their way below Gabriel’s balls toward his lightly quivering hole. He says nothing as Gabriel circles the muscle with the tip of his finger, but he breaks when that finger slips inside.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he pants. Gabriel opens his eyes, dark and gleaming, and stares.

Sam is silent and Gabriel is still, and the moment stretches out for too, too long. Finally, Gabriel starts to move his hands again, and husks, “Keep talking.”

“Your hands…” Sam begins to jack his own length, trying to keep pace with Gabriel. “They know just how to— _nng_ —to take me apart. Love… ah, love feeling them… on me…”

Gabriel inches a second finger inside himself and picks up speed with both hands, his raised knee falling so he lies spread out on full display. Sam moans his name, and Gabriel laughs breathlessly.

“L-love the thought of you touching yourself,” Sam growls. “Thinking about me like I think about you… wanting me when you can’t have me and n-not being— _ah_ —able to help yourself.”

“S-Sam, fuck…”

“Makes me so fucking hard to think of you loving your body. The way I love it, Gabriel, every fucking inch of you…” A third finger, and Sam leans forward hungrily, aching to help Gabriel stretch his slick hole further but not daring to intrude on the scene before him. “But you don’t, baby, you d-don’t and I don’t know _why_ , don’t— _nng_ , oh fuck—don’t know h-how you resist.”

“ _Easy_ ,” Gabriel gasps as his pinky disappears inside him and all four of his buried fingers push _up_. “R-rather have the real thing. Rather— _ah_ —rather l-let you love it for me— _fuck_ , so close, Sam…”

Gabriel is rubbing half-circles along his red rim with his thumb as he fucks himself on his fingers, as his other hand pumps his leaking cock. His head is thrown back and his thighs are trembling and his balls are tightening, and Sam is sure he’s never imagined anything this beautiful.

He can feel his own orgasm building, static and heat and an ache that seems centered more in his chest than his cock. He can’t explain it, but Sam _wants_ , and he’s getting what he wants but not quite all the same.

“Come for me,” he rasps out.

Gabriel does, right on cue.

His back arcs, his hole clenching around his fingers and his fingers clenching around his cock, and he comes all over his belly with a strangled scream. He strokes himself through a few smaller spurts, a few involuntary upward thrusts of his hips. Eventually he falls back, breathing hard. He draws his fingers out slowly, wincing, and laughs, brushing his hair away from his damp forehead—with the hand that _hadn’t_ just been half-shoved up his asshole, thank you very much. His face is flushed and lax in a way that makes him look much younger. Younger, and something closer to angelic.

It occurs to Sam that this is the first time he’s seen Gabriel come without Sam touching him. And it’s that realization that tips him over the edge. Something snaps and the ache becomes a starburst—Sam streaks the sheets but he hardly notices the mess in favour of the warmth of release, of lightning and lust and the heady scents of come and sweat.

He manages to drag himself to Gabriel’s side before collapsing. Gabriel snaps them clean and pulls Sam close, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “That was… that was definitely fun.”

Sam huffs against the crook of Gabriel’s neck. It had been, and he’d wanted it, but there is still a piece missing. He’s quiet for a moment, then he steels himself and says, “I guess I like watching you love yourself partially because I want us to have something in common.”

Gabriel chuckles. “Yeah, you made that perfectly clear. Don’t worry, kiddo, I, too, happen to be a big fan of my dick.”

Sam smiles. “I said _yourself_ that time.”

A sharp breath, and Gabriel goes very still and very quiet. “… Oh,” he says, finally. Matter of fact, like it’s nothing important. “We-ell, in that case, maybe we oughta do this the other way around next time. Y’know, so we can be sure it’s mutual.”

He kisses Sam’s temple again, and just like that Sam doesn’t want for anything anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a handful of headcanons, some inspired by talks with River_of_Dreams re: whether Gabriel screwing the constructs in Tall Tales counted as sex or masturbation. (SO SHOUT OUT TO RIVER_OF_DREAMS, WHO IS FABULOUS.)
> 
> Also contains a callback to Gabriel's crush on Danny Kaye (star of the 1940s version of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty) from "We Have the Strangest Ways" for no reason other than GreyMichaela made me do it.
> 
> Title nabbed from the lyrics of (what else?) "I Touch Myself" by Divinyls. It's what Gabriel would've wanted.


End file.
